


Bubble Nests

by al-the-remix (only_blue)



Series: Mpreg Works [5]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, M/M, Mating Rituals, Romance, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_blue/pseuds/al-the-remix
Summary: Every year Sid would make more sticky, barren nests and leak all over the inside of his pants while Geno ribbed him about it, all the while looking ripe and fertile. Rinse and repeat.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Series: Mpreg Works [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744360
Comments: 22
Kudos: 106





	Bubble Nests

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to sevenfists for betaing this fic!

Geno knew how Sid got, and flaunted it anyway. He sat across from Sid in the steam room, his legs spread and his little bump of eggs on display, rounding out his pale stomach. It was deep enough into the season for Geno’s tan to be gone and some of the softness to have returned to his body, rounding out the edges. It just made the small swell that much more obvious. 

Sid felt his dick drip like a leaky faucet between his legs. There was nothing to be done about it, it was just that time of year. Geno would be getting ready to clutch soon and seeing the visible proof of it turned Sid into a soggy mess. He draped his towel over his face and breathed in the damp, hot air. Maybe he could still smother himself. 

_Well, there was one other thing he could do._

Sid stood in the bathroom stall sequestered at the end of the line and held his dick in his hand, coaxing out spumes into the corner of the stall. They were thick and frothy. Sid had really been trying to hold this back as long as he could and now he was paying for it in the form of a large clump of slowly stiffening bubbles.

The bathroom stall had been marked out of commission for years now. Sid had ruined it as a rookie, over-eager with a hair-trigger, clogging up the toilet with his tacky nests as he tried to hide them. At this point, the drain might as well have been filled with cement. 

The bang of the bathroom door opening echoed off the tile. Sid squeezed his eyes shut tight, hoping whoever it was would just use the urinal and leave. The footsteps paused outside his stall, and Sid’s fear was punctuated by the slow creak of the door pushing inwards. 

He felt the hot line of another body press up against his back before Geno’s face hooked over his shoulder. “Nice,” he said, and Sid could hear the amusement in his voice. Another trickle of bubbles leaked out of his dick with a pulse when Geno’s fingers found Sid’s hip under his shirt and gave him a squeeze. “Good job.” 

Sid imagined the back of his neck must be the same red as hot iron. He could feel the heat of it lingering even after Geno had left the stall. Patiently, Sid waited and listened as Geno pissed and shook himself, finally sagging and letting out another stream of frothy bubbles when Geno had left the room. 

With a final stroke of his dick, Sid milked out a bead of come like he was squeezing out the last dregs of a tube of toothpaste. He tucked himself away inside his track pants and exited the room, staring resolutely out in front of him hoping not to have to look anyone in the eye. They could probably read it in his face anyways. It was no secret; Geno would donate his clutch without spawning, he did it every year the same way he donated to orphanages, and the nests Sid made would dry empty and unused. Dana would come around with a chisel later to scrape as much of them off as he could and Sid would buy him a very nice bottle of Scotch for his troubles, trying not to die from the embarrassment. It only seemed to get worse with time. 

Secretly, selfishly, Sid wanted Geno to keep his eggs--just once. 

It had almost been funny when they were younger, when they had been the only two Bettas to have never spawned. But now, thirteen years later, they were still the only two Bettas on the team to have never spawned. Every year Sid would make more sticky, barren nests and leak all over the inside of his pants while Geno ribbed him about it, all the while looking ripe and fertile. Rinse and repeat.

Sid drove home after practice. He reheated last night’s leftovers and ate dinner out on the deck. It was just getting warm enough out to be bearable. He looked out across his yard at his natural pool, barren and glazed over, but as soon as the temperature warmed enough it would be groomed for spawning season. The pH could be lowered, the regeneration area around the perimeter pruned, the weedy plants and their sandy, rocky soil tended to. It would be big enough for a nest, safe with lots of shelter for the larvae to hide.

Sometimes, Sid felt kind of silly having all of this and never using it for anything but swimming. He was used to the line of questioning by his friends and family about whether or not he’d ever find someone permanent to share it with him. Whether it was just for show. Sid never expected anything from Geno and didn’t think it was fair to assume he’d want to share a clutch with Sid just because Sid was available. That didn’t mean Sid didn’t feel the tension growing every year like a sheet drawn taut in the wind, didn’t think he was imagining it when Geno’s teasing grew an edge of intent at the beginning of each spring. But then Geno would leave, like he did every year, and Sid would sit in his pool and rip out the roots of last year’s dead, yellow plants. The only thing fertile inside the pool’s concrete walls was the soil. 

They played New Jersey at home. The game was mostly uneventful besides the fact that they won. Sid scored at the beginning of the second period on the power play. Geno barreled into him full force, trusting Sid to stop his momentum, and pulled Sid flush to his side. He yelled something enthusiastic and garbled, patting Sid on the helmet. For what was left of the twenty minutes Sid felt wetness drip down the inside his leg, catching in his sock. He tried to clean some of it up during the second intermission but in the end, all he could do was wedge some paper towel between his crotch and his jock. 

Sid still had to sit through the post-game interviews with his hockey pants firmly in place. He waited until everyone had filed out of the locker room and the showers to peel his soaked base layers from his skin. His pants, in particular, were a disaster, soaked all the way through like he had pissed himself and sticky. Tossing them into a special bin for Dana to work on, Sid felt like a bottle of Scotch probably wouldn’t cut it this time around. 

The steam room was blissfully empty. After laying down towels so the bubbles wouldn’t find their way down the drain, Sid sat on the bench and just let himself leak. It felt like he was seeping out of every pore. He stayed seated in the same position till he was uncomfortably hot. Sid was just considering getting up and going home when he heard the soft sound of the door to the steam room opening and closing with a snick. Sid didn’t look up to see who it was; it could only be one person. 

“Bubbles not stop yet?” came Geno’s voice, smooth and probing.

Sid shook his head, focusing on the grain of the terry cloth beneath his feet. The bare skin of Geno’s arm brushed against his when he sat down beside Sid. He was still dressed in a t-shirt and track pants but that one point of contact was almost too much. Sid already felt like he was burning up when Geno’s hand landed on his thigh, pulling at the towel wrapped around his hips. 

“Let me see--” His voice was so close, sending a wave of goosebumps over Sid’s skin. 

“Don’t,” Sid bit off, clutching at the knot around his waist tight. “It’s not fair.”

“Sid--” Geno said. His voice sounded coloured with hurt like a bruise and Sid flinched with it.

“I know you think this is funny, but it isn’t to me.” He pressed his lips together until they felt numb and looked down at the small mound of foam that had collected between his feet, feeling a new wave of humiliation pulling him under all over again. 

“Sid,” Geno tried again, resting his hand a safe distance away, cupping Sid’s knee cap like he could anchor him from that one point of contact. “I don’t think it’s funny.”

Silence ensued. Sid didn’t know how to feel about that. “You always tease me about it,” Sid muttered, and the continued silence afterwards was deafening, the empty air trapping his words like bookends. 

Hesitant fingers touched the side of his face, guiding Sid until he couldn’t help but look at Geno. There was no amusement in his eyes now; in fact, his face looked almost as embarrassed as Sid felt, and maybe a little bit guilty, too.

Geno stood and held out his hand. There were high red spots of colour bright on his ears and cheeks. "Come with me, worry about towels later."

“G,” Sid warned, not knowing what he had in mind. 

“Trust me?” Geno asked, his eyes dear and imploring. And of course, Sid trusted him, that wasn’t the question. 

He didn’t take Geno’s hand but he stood with him, shivering as Geno led them out and around to the hydrotherapy room. The hallways were empty and Sid was leaving a path of wet footprints along the linoleum, a trail he hoped no one would follow. 

When Geno pulled off the lid of the smaller of the two tubs, the sight of the water made Sid flush. “We can’t do it here,” Sid said. 

“What we do?” Geno asked, the look on his face entirely incriminating. “Just sit in bath.”

He moved to stand in front of Sid, hooking his fingers into the towel at his waist, the knot loose and easily swayed, just like Sid’s will. Sid watched Geno’s face, carefully blank as he focused on pulling the towel away. Geno just stood there, taking him in and making Sid squirm in place. He felt slick, full and heavy; too heavy to get hard all the way and dribbling froth down the inside of his thigh. 

Geno let the towel drop, forgotten, and any pretence was dropped with it. He petted at the V of Sid’s hips, his fingers stroking down, meandering a path to squeeze at Sid experimentally. Sid didn’t dare look at himself; he could already feel the way his cock dripped down over Geno’s fist, the hot shame of it weighty in his face and neck. 

Sid didn’t know if it was better or worse that Geno stopped touching him then, pulling his shirt off over his head. "Get in the water," he said. 

Sid did as he was told, sinking deep into the warmth of the tub. He seated himself on the bench, spreading his legs, and watched as Geno pushed his track pants down over his hips, following in after Sid. Instead of sitting beside him, Geno settled over him on the bench, lowering himself onto Sid’s thighs. Sid hadn’t been expecting it, having him this close all of a sudden. Geno’s hands came up to rest lightly on Sid’s shoulders, and his face kept twitching minutely like he was working hard not to give anything away. Sid could see him work through every consideration. As long as he lived, Geno would never admit to having a bad poker face. 

“This okay?” Geno asked, and God, it was more than okay. Sid could see Geno’s dick bob in the water, not hard yet but interested--his skin slick and flushed. The water lapped at the rounded-out bump of his stomach, right there for Sid to see. 

His throat felt too thick to reply, so Sid ran his hands up the outside of Geno’s thighs and nodded. A blurt of bubbles floated up to the surface as Sid’s dick twitched, and even though Sid could feel the blotchiness slowly blooming and taking over his skin, his embarrassment had tempered. Geno knew what he was doing and he didn’t seem to mind the fact that Sid was leaking steadily for him. He encouraged it; his fingers were warm and wet, stroking along the tender spot at the back of Sid’s neck and settling deeper into Sid’s lap.

"You want to clutch,” Geno asked tentatively. “Maybe with me?"

Sid’s hands tightened reflexively at Geno’s sides. Yes, that was what he wanted. Wrapping his arms around Geno’s waist, Sid tucked his face into the groove of Geno’s neck, tasting the skin there and drawing him in. Geno’s ribcage expanded and contracted against Sid’s chest with a deep sigh, the hard press of his belly curving into Sid’s. Sid shifted his hips until his dick was slotted up perfectly against the gentle slope of Geno’s abdomen and Geno ground down, rubbing himself back and forth against Sid’s cock. The water made things feel slippery and smooth like silk. Clumps of bubbles collected around them, the water getting thick with it as Sid spurted helplessly, the thought of his nests leaking all over Geno’s stomach and the eggs living just under the skin making him ache. 

They both felt Geno’s voice vibrate, gravelly in Sid’s ear. “You spend so much time on that pool, making sure it’s perfect. You invite me over to swim during training camp _every year--_ ” Geno cut himself off, shuddering. Sid could feel the press of his cock, hard and nudging at the crook of Sid’s thigh. His fingers dug deep into the muscles of Sid’s shoulders and he carried on. “Keep thinking, this year maybe he asks? But you never do.”

Geno pulled away, guiding Sid’s hands until they rested over the hard bump of his stomach. “You want my eggs in your pool?” he whispered and Sid sucked in a sharp breath, revelling in the soft, warm flesh under his palms. “Think you do,” Geno murmured and bowed into him until his nose brushed Sid’s. He kissed Sid’s cheeks and the corner of his lips, wiping Sid’s mind clean of anything but the tender, chapped press of Geno’s mouth against his skin. 

It was chaste in comparison to what they were already doing. Affection, well-worn with time, lodged itself in Sid’s heart; he thought about all the years Geno had been his loyal friend, how sometimes Sid felt like he could never live up to that kind of devotion. He thought about how if he kissed Geno now, he would want him just the same in another thirteen years, and another thirteen after that. On and on. Sid imagined Geno’s face turned into the sun on Sid’s poolside at sixty and kissed Geno back with painful softness. 

“Ask me,” Geno said, so quietly.

“I want you in my home,” Sid said, with unpracticed sincerity, his heart quivering like a hummingbird in mid-air. Geno’s pupils had blown, stretching out the rings of brown, and his lashes were dark and clumped together. Sid kissed him again impulsively. 

In between them, long fingers wrapped around Sid’s cock, pumping him steadily. His balls drew up tight in anticipation. Sid knew how he would look, his skin shiny and pink, overripe in Geno’s hand. He reached down to grasp Geno’s cock, equally hard and slippery, and brought them together. Wrapping his fingers tight around the base, Sid held them together so Geno could work his fist over the heads. Sid’s arousal grew steadily, dragged along by the lazy currents of the balmy water. Geno was letting out wet, cut-off noises against Sid’s temple, working his hips into their fists. There wouldn’t be enough time in the world to hold him. Sid dared to look down and stomach clenched as it suddenly caught up with him. He could see the deep pink of the heads disappearing behind the slick twist of Geno’s hand and the way the water grew murky as Sid’s dick leaked a thicker blob, almost ready to come. 

Geno bent down, kissing Sid’s open mouth messily. His thighs tightened down on either side of Sid’s hips and a shiver ran through Geno’s body. His hips bucked into Sid’s as he cried out and came warm in the water and spilling all over his own fist. Sid gripped Geno’s hips trying to get any friction he could while Geno sagged on top of him. 

Finally, Sid gave in and made a desperate noise, and Geno gave him a squeeze. He brought his head down, resting it on Sid’s shoulder, and turned his face in to press his lips to the base of Sid’s throat. Jerking Sid’s cock fast, Geno didn’t give him a moment to catch up, sliding Sid’s foreskin wetly over the head, back and forth until Sid’s stomach seized and he shot into the warm water. Geno murmured something into the hollow of his throat, too quiet for Sid to hear. He spurted repeatedly as Geno coaxed it out of him, stroking Sid’s cock till he felt sensitive and empty, twitching with aftershocks as Geno tried to wring every last drop out of him. When Geno finally let go, Sid’s dick hung swollen and hot between his legs as he tried to catch his breath. 

They sat in content stillness for as long as it took Sid to remember where they were. Sid picked the towel off the floor and wiped himself down with it when they got out of the pool. He turned to hand it to Geno and stopped short. There was something about seeing his own release smeared over Geno’s soft dick and pubic hair that felt brutally tender. 

Geno reached out and pulled the towel from Sid’s loose grip. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You can do it again later.” A rogue smile crept across Geno’s face and Sid felt himself pink up at being so transparent.

It filled Sid with certainty. If Geno already knew how he felt, there was no harm in asking. “Don’t go to Russia right away this summer. Stay with me instead. We can swim.” 

**Author's Note:**

> * I use the term "Betta" in this fic but that's Betta like the fish, not Omegaverse *


End file.
